You know how something can have the fun sucked out of it* as soon as it starts to become a requirement? Such was definitely the case with my marginally successful "month of blogging" that was October. While I enjoyed the element that led me to get creative (and/or just cop out) when it came to posting, by the end I just started to get tired. So... after a lengthy reprieve I'm back. Don't act like you didn't notice you bastards.

The past few weeks have been nothing short of intense, in a wide variety of ways. One thing in particular comes to mind; an event met with such mixed feelings from the nation, I'm not quite sure how this decision could be viewed as anything short of pivotal in shaping our future lives. That's right folks, I shaved off the winter beard early this year.

There was a simple truth behind this brash decision, a truth that took me a bit of time to come to terms with. It was just too much for some people. On one hand I had the standard group of stalkers, sycophants, and general admirers that are conditional of the beard's annual existence, but this year saw the emergence of a completely different sect of followers. These people were so enamored -- awestruck really -- by the force of the beard that they turned on me. By no coincidence, this group was mostly comprised of religious zealots, and it seems pretty obvious at this point that the beard was destined for martyrdom, like the many others before it who never asked to have such greatness thrust upon them, but still did what was right. I can only hope that the beard's legacy and message of unity will live on for generations to come, and that maybe -- just maybe -- it's up in heaven right now, having a knife fight with Jesus' beard.

Although shaving it off was an act of restraint in itself, I'm proud to say that I barely wept at all.
However, still worried about the religious zealots, I momentarily contemplated adopting the lone style of facial hair that they would actually respect, the handlebar mustache:


I ended up not keeping it, mostly because it clashed with my flair for enunciation and complete absence of a mullet. All the same, I felt pretty confident that this is one of the best pictures I've taken in my life. And that makes me happy, having that final moment of joy with what remained of the beard... bittersweet indeed. Until next year my friend, may we find reassurance in your infinite goodness.

*group sex and watching zombie movies excluded.